One More Day
by CafeAime
Summary: Post-COE: Jack has finally come back to Earth, and is determined to live out his duties as god-father, boss and friend as simply as possible. But when a mysteriously alive Ianto comes knocking, that all goes out of the window...
1. Freeze

"Coming…" Jack shouted down the stairs in answer to the impatient taps on his front door. He sighed, and put down the book he'd been reading. Another salesman, no doubt. Who else could it be? Nobody else knew where he lived – apart from Gwen, of course, and she'd long since given up on him. The home visits had been restricted since he'd moved out of the Hub; at first, he'd thought it was because she couldn't find anymore excuses for their late night catch up sessions (which didn't often involve much catching up, as a rule). Now, he knew, it was because she didn't want to come. He was absurdly fine with that. Trying to pretend he cared was too much hassle, these days.

_Tap tap tap_

"Coming, already!" he yelled again as the taps once again interrupted his train of thought. Glaring down the stairs at the front door as if it was all the door's fault wasn't going to make the visitor go away, he reasoned. He sighed again, making his way down one stair at a time, hoping that by the time he'd reached the bottom the impatient salesman would have given up and –

_THUD THUD THUD_

Jack frowned for two reasons: one, there was no such thing as luck. Two?

Well, how many salesmen knock like that?

He hurried now, picking up his gun from the hall table and taking aim at the silhouette through the glass panels in the red wooden door. It had originally been blue, but blue was no longer his favourite colour. Blue for the Doctor. Red for –

_THUD._

With one last knock, the person outside…

Disappeared wasn't really the right word. Fell, maybe. Jack ran, and yanked open the door, taking aim once again.

_Freeze, _he'd meant to yell. He hadn't meant to carry out the demand himself.

_Ianto?_

**AN: Dun dun ddduuuuunnn!! Really need a beta, people…**


	2. Back to the Present

**_Ten Years Earlier_**

_"Jack, do you want coffee?" he yells up the stairs, tray balanced in one hand and the beeping cupcake-shaped device that Tosh had just explained held gingerly in the other (she hadn't said what it did, but it had been pressed on him with the words 'extremely dangerous' and 'bang' and in his experience they weren't words to take chances with). He eyes it suspiciously (E for Explosive or C for Cupcake or N for No Idea? Probably not the latter… it was getting a bit full…), barely noticing when Jack exits his office above him._

_"Yeah… please…"_

_He sounds distracted, Ianto thinks, frowning. Glancing into the office, he – ah. Suzie, buttoning her shirt back up. That makes him the only man in Torchwood who hasn't – _

_"Ahem."_

_Jack shifts slightly in an uncharacteristically subtle way, blocking his view. He looks uncomfortable. Did Suzie break it off? Serve him right, if she did. Ianto smiles falsely, barely disguising the smug smirk that threatens to nip that flouncing sexual predator right in the… Ianto smiles again._

_"Sorry."_

_He moves off to make coffee, picking up coffee cups and conversation along the way… but completely unaware of the eyes glued to his suited back._

_Jack stares after him, scowling in a way he was pretty sure would give him wrinkles (IF he got wrinkles… still, he wasn't taking chances). Why hasn't the teaboy said anything? What's his name… Ian? Yan… to… Yan… to… Yanto? No… Ianto. That's it. He was oddly silent… why hadn't he spoken? Anyone else would have. But Jones Ianto Jones… he isn't just anyone, is he? That's the guy that tracked down Captain Jack Harkness. Three times. Not once, not twice – three times. And the second time, he brought coffee._

_"Jack?"_

_The immortal jumps. Suzie is right behind him. She hasn't touched him. Jack tells himself that's why he likes her. It isn't. _

_"I'd love a coffee."_

_He doesn't say anything: doesn't make a joke about low energy levels or heat exhaustion, just runs. Nods, and sprints for the kitchen, even more confused than Suzie as to why he feels the need to jog._

_"Ianto?"_

_The kitchen is empty. He frowns, heart pounding for reasons he can't quite understand. _

_"Ianto?"_

_"Here, Jack."_

_There's something about the way that voice shakes when it reaches his name that makes the Captain sprint to his side… then freeze. How is it that in the split second he looks away, Ianto has appeared there? And why the hell is there china at his feet? He hasn't seen it before, or heard it crack…_

_Whatever Jack is thinking, it vanishes the instant Ianto's lips touch his, pleading. He reciprocates, confusion battling with eager and not caring, and only when the kiss finishes does he know which one has one._

_"Archives?"_

_Ianto's face darkened for a moment – disappointment? – before clearing once more. The young Welshman who seemed so distracted moves back to the present._

_"Archives."_

_They don't speak of it again. _

**AN: Sorry it's short… longer chapters are on the way, I promise :) Thank you to specialfrancine (thank you for the lovely comments!), Alibrandi (thank you for the offer, but someone else got there first… maybe for another fic? x) and Ally – thank you for everything, including the birthday wishes :) x**


	3. Ghosts

**AN: Much thanks to captain-ally for the help on this one, but I'm still looking for a permanent beta… help? =S (Don't want to burden Ally with my whining any more!)**

Jack shifted awkwardly in his less than comfortable perch on the kitchen counter top, clutching the slowly cooling mug of untouched coffee that he hadn't yet managed to convince himself that he'd made for caffeine rather than a repressed nostalgic longing for the past. The ache slowly blossomed into a sharp, biting knife that stabbed repeatedly into the large part of his mind that smelled like coffee and dark chocolate that he had so carefully cordoned off so long ago with one hand over his eyes. The pain flowered, dripping with the bitter nectar of his tears, and he fell to the floor, gasping and grasping for reality. A fine powder of china dusted his feet.

And all because of one stupid little hallucination.

Over the island that separated the kitchen from the living room Jack winced at the top of the still open door. He hadn't had the stomach to close it; close it, and admit to himself that the illusion of his former lover – lying in the doorway so still he could be dead – was just that: an illusion. A mirage. A lagoon in the desert where there was no water or an island in the ocean where there is no land. False hope. Weakness.

But that momentary glimmer had been strong enough to turn him into _this_. A broken shell, a ravaged flower. Lying on the kitchen floor gasping for oxygen because there was a hole where his heart should have been.

"Jack, what – oh my god!"

The broken Captain on the floor glanced up at the dark-haired Welshwoman in the doorway and frowned in amiable confusion.

"Oh," he said, smiling. It isn't Jack's smile. It isn't even real. "You see him too?"

Black.

-x-

"I thought he was a hallucination."

Those were the first words Captain Jack Harkness said since waking up on the living room sofa with a tearstained Gwen to his left, a steaming cup of tea with no milk and the teabag still in spilt all over the floor to his right…

And a very definitely real Welshman curled up on the loveseat opposite.

"Maybe…" Jack turned his head towards his uncharacteristically silent ex-colleague but did not take his eyes away from the sleeping man opposite who he was trying _very _hard not to name. A name would be almost equal to admitting that that man was real, and that would cost precious hope. Hope Jack wasn't even sure he had, any more. "Maybe… Jack… what if he _is _an illusion?"

The captain didn't need to say anything; if a picture was worth a thousand words, the vision of the American cynic with his eyebrow hitched up slightly was worth at least three. Million.

"Let me explain," Gwen pressed. A small nod and the lowering of the eyebrow allowed that. "What if it's not really Ianto? Aliens try to trick us all the time, Jack. He could be an alien." Across from them, the sleeping man shifted in a remarkably human way, sighing softly. Jack winced at the forbidden familiarity and Gwen hurriedly amended herself. "They could be trying to hurt you."

"And if they're not?"

Gwen winced at the restrained hope in her friend's voice before continuing.

"Then this…" she waved a hand at the sleeping Welshman. "It can't last, Jack. Just look at O-Owen." Jack moved only to squeeze his friend's trembling hand, but did not look away fore fear that Ianto might vanish – torn away in the blink of an eye by yet another cruel trick of fate. "You can't bring back the dead, Jack. You _know _that."

She had expected tears. Anger, maybe. She would gladly have swapped either for the dull apathy that followed her words that said that all hope was long dead.

"Sure, Timelines, right?"

The Welshwoman blinked back tears from wide eyes. Jack made no move to comfort her, nor any other that might suggest she was still there. The immortal stared at nothing in a way Gwen had never seen him stare at anything. Empty. Deserted. Vacant.

Brand new… she'd seen Jack fight aliens and speak with long dead friends and watched him as the pieces of the broken immortal multiplied and died, one by one. This was… different. How? She wasn't sure. There was something lurking behind the mask that had fallen so quickly – so uncharacteristically unannounced – that she'd never seen in Jack Harkness before… what is it? Hatred – at fate, their master puppeteer? Or sadness – red hot memories – _wonderful _memories – tinted with the frozen, impermeable touch of ice cold death?

Love?

On the sofa opposite, Ianto's eyebrow twitched.

-x-

"_Jack…"_

"_No, seriously. Mind your back, ok? There are all sorts of people around these places."_

_Ianto snorted dubiously, raising an eyebrow as Jack swept the room with mockingly suspicious eyes. "Oh, of course. Plenty of axe wielding cannibals and drug addicted blowfish in the old people's home."_

_Jack narrowed his eyes at the half-irritated, half-amused Welshman. "You're mocking me."_

"_You're stupid."_

"_Sure. Allow me to prove my point." He hesitated for a moment before pointing decisively at an elderly woman drooling blankly across the room from them. "Why," he asked, "is that woman drooling?"_

"_Because she's _old_?" _

"_Wrong!" The immortal jabbed a triumphant finger at his lover. "She's an alien recently trapped in human form who hasn't quite figured out the spit gland yet."_

_Ianto managed to transform his laugh into a harsh cough, earning an irritated glance from the nurse dutifully feeding an old man peeled grapes. Jack glowered right back. Not any old glare, either – this was the back-off-bitch-he's-with-me kind of glare that he saved only for really special occasions (and had truly ticked off a few waitresses over the years). "She's in on it, too. Slave to the species helping them to regain their strength grape by grape. Despicable." He next turned his glare onto a man transfixed on the badly tuned TV in the corner resolutely streaming out reruns of Countdown. "As for that guy… he's evil. Pure evil. Definitely planning something." _

"_Ok." Ianto paused to point out a small man hobbling past them on a Zimmer frame. "What do you make of that guy? He can hardly walk."_

_Jack surveyed him carefully, face a picture of obscure determination to prove a point that only Jack Harkness had. He nodded decisively and clicked his fingers. "Paying for his incredible sex life."_

_The eyebrow twitched still higher. _

"Jack? Jack!"

"What?" murmured the immortal, shaking away the residue of resilient memories he obviously hadn't buried deep enough.

"He's…"

"Jack?" the Welshman sighed. "What's going on?"


	4. Sir

**AN: This one's for captainally, the psycho who not only has agreed to meet me at Hub 5 in October (!) but is also foolish enough to stick with me even though I spend ninety nine percent of my day insulting her :P Sorry, chook!! Much thanks for the beta!**

-x-

"Jack?"

His voice was too dry. He cleared it and tried again.

"Sir...?"

Better. He tried to sit up, but something around his wrist obscured the movement. Jack and Gwen watched from across the room, dumbstruck and silent, as the expression of confusion turned to one of shock and annoyance. "What the hell?!" He spluttered, yanking his handcuffed wrist upwards as far as the sofa leg would allow. Jack turned to look at his female companion with raised eyebrows; Gwen shifted, ashamed, under his critical eyes.

"What? He scared the shit out of me. What would you have done?" Gwen hissed. Jack ignored the innocent appeal in her eyes and turned in silence to face the Welshman - whose eyebrows had not lowered.

"What's going on?" Ianto sounded as though it was a struggle to remain as polite and impartial as he usually did. Jack stared at him. Not the hard, direct glare he'd aimed at Gwen just moments ago, but... mixed. Not hot or cold; lukewarm. Not direct - like he was looking at something that wasn't even there and wondering whether or not it was real... The obscured net that Jack cast from his eyes trapped both of the other of the room's occupants. Gwen froze. Ianto sat bolt upright and fought the impulse to turn away. "Sir?" He prompted.

The immortal blinked, and the spell was broken; Gwen shifted, relieved, and Ianto slumped in his chair; regardless of his work persona, the Welshman forced himself to admit that he was more than a little intimidated by his boss. Jack frowned. "What did you call me?"

Now it was Ianto's turn to look confused. Jack followed the creasing of his forehead and did not comment, but his expression... Relief? Sadness? Doubt? "I called you Sir." Ianto repeated himself slowly, watching the others for signs of comprehension or some movement or expression that might explain the question.

"You haven't called me that in years." Jack's voice was faint and his hands clenched. Jack did not respond when Gwen reached out to squeeze his arm, her eyes locked on the interaction between the two and widened impossibly, like a deer caught in deathly bright headlights.

The frown on the other side of the room, if possible, deepened. "What do you mean, Sir? I... I called you that this morning. Five minutes ago." He glanced out of the window to the darkened sky and whistled. He missed the way Jack inhaled rapidly at the unfamiliarly familiar action and the tear that was hastily wiped from Gwen's cheek. "Maybe not... Wow. How long was I out?"

When Jack didn't respond, Gwen took the reigns. She smiled encouragingly. "What's the last thing you remember, Ianto?"

The Welshman looked at her. The lack of recognition in his eyes startled Gwen, as did the annoyance; he was, she reasoned, not used to being treated like… well, wasn't this how she treated everyone who entered Torchwood from the outside? Like… like they were infants, she supposed. But how else would she deal with them? "I'm... sorry, I don't think we've been introduced." He sent a meaningful glance at the ever silent Jack and sighed when it proved fruitless. "Ianto Jones - although I think Jack must have told you that." With a small smile he went to offer his hand but was restrained by the handcuffs. He sighed again. "You are?"

"You..." Gwen's expression was one of disbelief. She snorted. "You don't remember me, Ianto?" Blank. "It's Gwen?" she prompted. Still nothing. A small laugh - anything but gentle, as per the intention - shook dangerously as she glanced at Jack. His face that lacked its usual warmth was frozen and blank. "We worked together!" Ianto frowned at the past tense, and Gwen winced at her mistake. "We work together," she amended.

The Welshman shook his head, expression torn between confusion and an obvious wish to remain professionally unattached. "I don't..."

"What year is it?"

Two pairs of eyes locked on Jack, who focused on just one. Ianto frowned.

"What?"

"You heard me." The immortal leant forward - Ianto couldn't help but lean away as he noticed the strangely forbidding passion in his eyes. "What. Year. Is. It?"

Ianto turned to look at Gwen - one eyebrow raised; _is he crazy? - _but her wide eyes, too, demanded answers. The coffee boy raised an arm and sighed his surrender. "It's 2006. Can I have a coffee, please?"

-x-

The peaceful routine provided Gwen with ample opportunity to drown out the harshly nostalgic dagger screaming through her mind that was the man sitting in Jack's living room. Instant coffee; located in the top cupboard. Mugs; found in the fridge, for some reason, along with the milk. Sugar; oh. Sugar... sugar...

"Tumble dryer."

One look at the immortal who she had not noticed entering the kitchen brought the screaming racing into life. Wincing, she raised an eyebrow with an effort to prove herself effortlessly nonchalant rather than allow the bubbling mass of confusion and painful nostalgia to slip through – that, and guilt at feeling quite so much pain when Jack's must be far superior to her own. Yet again, she looked into the immortal's crumpled soul and wondered if – underneath the banter and the flirting and the handsome and the hero – there was, as he had always preferred she believe, an empty shell? Or perhaps… maybe… although he would never say it – never in a million years – was there… she didn't know how to describe the way he looked when she said his name compared to the way he looked when Ianto called him 'sir'. She didn't want to. She continued with a mind to lighten the atmosphere. "Tumble dryer?" she asked - he shrugged. Not in the mood for banter, the drooped shoulders and the bags beneath his eyes said. Those eyes told many stories that she had never been privy to, yet the story of Ianto's return was painfully evident in his new demeanor; how he had changed from the flirtatious, extravagant man to… this. She shrugged uncomfortably in an effort to move from underneath the heavy silence that fell, but could not bring herself to fill it with mindless chatter while she bent to retrieve the sugar from the tumble dryer. How could she, she asked herself – how was it possible to make light and airy conversation when the man before me is dealing with something so painful I could never, ever comprehend?

The worst thing was that the hope was gone. Not even gone – inside his eyes lay the mangled corpse of wishes and dreams laid out for all to see.

Sugar; tumble dryer. Kettle; on.

Minutes passed, and she couldn't stare at the kettle any more.

"Why..."

"I don't know."

Silence dropped like a sledgehammer on the pair; so sudden and so heavy that it brought tears to Gwen's eyes. She folded into his arms for comfort and found that he gave her no warmth at all when he reciprocated mechanically. Blank. Like he wasn't even Jack any more. This was worse than when he had disappeared with the Doctor for those long months, or when he had run away from her that night underneath the suffocating blanket of such bright stars. This was…

They jumped apart when the kettle announced it was done and Gwen hurried back into the old routine.

-x-

Gwen smiled weakly at Ianto as she bent to pass him his coffee. "Thanks." He smiled, and took it. She watched him out of the corner of her eye for that tell-tale response that was just so _Ianto_. There it was; a wince as he sipped his coffee quietly, hastily covered with a smile. She returned it for the first time in ten years and it felt as though the world was being – agonizingly slowly, but who was she to put a price on progress? - glued back together.

"You can say it," she told him with a gap-toothed grin.

He made a face. "This coffee... is awful." The corner of Jack's mouth twitched – almost inconceivably so, but it was there.

Gwen managed a true smile for the first time that night and reached into her pocket to pull out the keys and throw them to him. "Here. You made it better than I do." Frowning slightly at the past tense, Ianto murmured his thanks and unlocked his restraints. When he stood, massaging his wrists -

Gwen frowned at the object that had rolled onto the floor. "What's that?"

Ianto's forehead creased, too. "I don't - "

It flashed. Once. Twice.

Recognition in Jack's eyes was rapidly replaced with fear as he stared at the small, cupcake-like object. "Get down!" He yelled, and dived across the room to throw Ianto to the ground.


End file.
